Keyword: joe hickey

It wasn't quite like the old joke about a hockey game breaking out at a fight, but a lively mini-debate over what role the federal government should have in legislating horse racing sprang up April 29.

<i>by Joe Hickey</i> - Stepping down from his Windfields jet, E.P. Taylor bounded across the tarmac into the terminal building, where he pulled up short in front of a vending machine.
"Help me, Joe. I don't have any U.S. change."

<i>By Joe Hickory</i> - Silhouetted against the expanse of sun-dappled Leadenham Creek, the tiny figure sweetening the hummingbird feeder casts a long shadow. Beckoned inside, and straightening as best arthritis would allow, she extended a hand. "Welcome. Welcome to Tench Tilghman's house."

<i>By Joe Hickey</i> - Fanciful locker room tales aside, grown men are prone to sports fantasies worthy of young boys: catching a Tom Brady spiral to win the title game; walking into the clubhouse at Pinehurst or Torrey Pines with a two-stroke lead; crushing Randy Johnson's high heat for a walk-off home run; or hoisting the Kentucky Derby (gr. I) trophy aloft for all the world to covet.

<i>By Joe Hickey</i> - John S. Covalli, 78, who had ridden Miche to win the 1952 Santa Anita Handicap (upon disqualification of Intent) was about to rejoin Sally, his wife of 51 years. Nary a blood relative present; funeral home staff matched mourners: two dolls and a pair of track-sore old-timers. The one on the gimp read committal prayers from a book borrowed from a priest.

<i>By Joe Hickey </i> - Of all the great memories bequeathed to me by my boss, the great breeder E.P. Taylor, none is more special than those of accompanying him on many one-on-one after-hour visits to the Windfields Farm barns during "evening stables."